


What’s The Use Of Feeling Blue?

by VulpixSinistre



Category: H.I.V.E. Series - Mark Walden
Genre: not shippy they’re just hanging out, rated T for alcohol mentions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:01:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28278813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VulpixSinistre/pseuds/VulpixSinistre
Summary: He’ll soon be gaining a son, just after she loses a daughter.It’s not like they’re going to tell each other that, though.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 2





	What’s The Use Of Feeling Blue?

Professor William Pike was the kind of man who could talk for hours if no one stopped him. Even if nobody else understood the complexities of whatever he felt like explaining. His fellow staff members knew it (from far too many stretched on meetings) and his students knew it (after countless lectures gone on past the bell), and it was hard to say which group dreaded it more. 

It was different, this time. This piece of work had him the most excited he had been in years, and while ordinarily he would love to sit someone down and discuss it to the minutiae of his research, it was perhaps best to keep it quiet for now. Nero especially would be wary at best, furious at worst. 

An artificial intelligence. A fascinating concept. Something that would be an immense asset to the school’s functionality, as well as a marvelous personal achievement. Provided it didn’t go the Overlord route. The Professor was only in the preliminary research and planning stages, but already felt energized and devoted to the project. 

He strode through the empty hallway leading to the staff’s chambers with a spring in his step and a grin on his face. Too bad he had no one to share the excitement with. 

A prolonged clanking sound, as if someone had tripped into a tray of glasses, snapped him out of his thoughts. He stopped in his tracks and gave a concerned glance to the door nearest to him. The noise appeared to be coming from the Contessa’s room. 

Dare he check if everything was all right? His sharp-tongued coworker did not strike him as the type of person to welcome unexpected guests. But, still upbeat and feeling daring, he tapped his knuckles against the door three quick times. 

“Everything fine in there?” He leaned in so his ear was almost pressed against the door, listening for another disturbance. More rattling, a low mumble, and an exasperated voice that he thought had told him to come in. 

Pike fumbled for the keycard in his pocket and slid it once, twice, three times though the pad on the wall before the door beeped its acceptance. “Maybe I should be working on fixing  _ that _ ,” he noted. 

Inside, the lights were dimmed, though he could still make out the differences from his own room. Everything from the paint colors to the furniture was more upscale, more expensive - and it all matched, too. And it was neater than his, the surfaces organized with neat stacks of paperwork and elegant decorations, the only exception being the coffee table, which had enough alcohol to stock a small liquor store strewn about on it. 

Standing behind them, tilting at the slightest most barely noticeable angle, the Contessa continued to pick through the bottles, squinting at labels before scoffing and pushing them aside. 

“What do you want?” She didn’t look up, only lifted an unopened bottle of rosé for examination. 

Pike glanced between her and the bottles, eyebrows raised in concern. “I heard a strange noise and wanted to check on you-“ she scoffed again, a rough, dismissive noise- “although this raises more questions.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m none of your concern.” Her voice didn’t sound slurred, but he could swear her accent was thicker than usual. He eyed the used glasses discarded by the sink, the lipstick stains faded more and more on each, and her now makeup less mouth scrunched into a frown as she popped the cork open. 

“How much have you had, Maria?”

“Not much. I’m only trying them out. Finding what’s best.” She poured the slightest amount into a fresh, finely cut crystal tumbler and raised it to her lips, sipping gently. “And  _ this _ is it.” This time the glass was filled to the brim. 

Pike frowned, becoming more and more alarmed. This was far from the only sign that something was amiss with the villainess. Lately her temper had been worse, making her quicker to snap at anyone who crossed her. Even the guards had started scheduling patrols to avoid her tours for the new students - her Sleeper demonstrations were becoming more frequent, and not limited to only one guard. And he could recall earlier in the year when she had left the island for almost a month; very unusual indeed. 

He stepped closer to her, attempting a calm smile. “You can tell me if something is wrong.” His voice was gentle, delicate. “If you need to talk, I’m here to listen. You might find it helps-“

Her head snapped up, staring straight at him for the first time, her whole face lit up in anger. “ **_No_ ** . I will  _ not _ have this. I see that look in your eyes! I am The Contessa Maria Sinistre and you will  _ not _ pity me!”

Pike was only fazed for a second. Then he straightened up and said, more firmly this time, “Well, I am your friend and I’m here to help.”

She tossed her head back and laughed, cruelly yet melodically. “Friend? Oh really? And why do you assume that?”

“Because I call you by your first name and you haven’t had me fed to the sharks yet.”

She paused, her mouth forming a thin line. Friends, in their profession, were rare to come by, and often false. Ordinarily she wouldn’t acknowledge anyone as a friend so easily, but in this weakened state, she would cling to any comfort she could get. 

Maria inhaled sharply, nodded, and wryly chuckled to herself. She walked, slowly, to the deep red velvety couch in the corner and sank down. “Do you have any children,  _ Professor _ ?” 

The sharpness of her tone was lost on him through the abruptness of the question. 

“No… no I don’t.” he hesitantly answered. 

“And do you regret that?”

Silence. 

“You shouldn’t.” The words sounded as harsh as her face looked. “It’s a waste of time.” She raised the glass to her lips once more and scowled through the sip. “Not worth it at all.”

Pike was lost now, the conversation gone somewhere he couldn’t follow. But he could see the pain in her expression, despite not knowing where it came from. 

“I’m sure that isn’t true,” he offered weakly. While he had no family of his own, and had seen what had happened to the families of more unfortunate villains, part of him would like to believe that it would have been worth it. That there would have been good moments; happy moments. As he struggled with what to say next, how to help somehow with a situation he didn’t know and likely couldn’t relate to, he almost missed her soft whisper. 

“... You’re right.”

He watched her watch her drink, tapping her fingernail against the side of the tumbler. The quiet stretched on longer this time. 

Finally, at last, the Contessa looked back up at him and did her best impression of a smile. 

“Now, are you going to pour yourself a glass, or do I have to continue drinking alone?”

“You seem to be doing very well with that already,” he noted, reaching for a matching cup and bottle of brandy. He filled it a third of the way and moved to the opposite couch, still slightly wary. But clearly she was done with the discussion, as all she did was raise her glass out. 

“Cheers.”

“To what?” 

“To whatever had you in such a good mood, before I ruined it.” Her smile grew, adopting a more genuine feel. “What were you up to?”

“Oh, I don’t think you want to hear about that,” he began, the feeling that he needed to hide his research once again rearing its head. 

On second thought, as she downed the rosé after who knows how many other drinks, the chances of her paying attention (and remembering) seemed low enough. And he  _ was _ awfully eager to share his enthusiasm towards this new project…

“Since you asked though, let me start from the beginning. In 1956-“

  
  
  



End file.
